The Boy Who
by Shintaro Kozu
Summary: Harry Potter is broken. He has tried over and over again to save himself and his friends from the troubles of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Given one more chance, the now cynical and less than heroic hero is determined to succeed, but will he? How?
1. Prologue

**Prologue: The Boy Who...**

It's unfortunately beautiful how life ends. How the flicker of what was once _you_ dies, leaving this world with only possessions, memories, and the body left as reminders of what kind of person you were.

It was with this grim epiphany that Harry wondered about death. What was the moment like? Will he feel brave, loved, strong? Or will he be desperate to survive, tears in his eyes, begging for his life?

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was about to find out.

With a sudden feeling of dread and slight anticipation, he tightly held his invisibility cloak, his most useful tool, besides his now broken Phoenix and Holly wand. It saddened him. It saddened Harry Potter to learn that he _had_ to die, and that there was absolutely no other way; this needed to be done...

With a cocktail of mixed feelings, Harry breathed a grieving breath, and advanced towards the forest and his death.

* * *

It always seemed to end this way, it didn't matter what Harry did. It always ended with either his death, or the death of his loved ones. It mattered not how many times he used that damn thing to travel back in time, Harry Potter always died, and arrived at the same place, only to use it again.

He no longer felt the excitement, the dread, or even concern. This was his seven hundred and seventy second time, facing his imminent death. He no longer wondered how his death was going to play out; he knew. He no longer felt any desperation to save himself, he knew how this story ends.

Harry would have to die again, and frankly he was sick of it.

He stepped forward with absolutely no hesitation, awaiting Voldemort's killing curse, and his immediate, painless, pathetic death.

But, it was better than some of his other endings, as Harry had seen. In some instances, everybody but Harry had gotten executed by the Death eaters. In others, he had to watch Hermione and Ron die, tortured and brutally beaten in front of him. The worst part was that he couldn't save them. He had to stay hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, watching as they were murdered.

That ending was the most damaging to his psyche, and it hit him hard. From the many times he revisited his death, he learned one thing: He didn't want to be a hero. He just wanted to save his friends. As for the Wizarding World, it could burn it Voldemort's grasp.

_"Harry Potter."_

The voice was familiarly cold. Despite hearing it many times, it still chilled him to the bone. No one can never truly forget the sensation of hearing the voice of your killer and how he made the spine shudder. No matter how many times you heard it.

Not only can one never get over the voice, but one can't get over the acts that the despicable man standing in front of Harry had done. No one can truly get over the people Voldemort has killed and has ordered to kill.

_"Harry Potter...The-Boy-Who-Lived. Such... A pleasure to meet somebody even more famous than myself." _Voldemort said, sneering at his own statement.

Harry's fist clenched at the comment the sick bastard had made... No matter how this ended, Harry wanted to bring Voldemort down with him. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and wondered why he was crying. He had never cried the past times, and wasn't planning on crying this time.

_"I think, Potter, a new name is suitable for that face. How about...," _Voldemort paused to smirk at the seventeen year old boy. "_The-Boy-Who-Failed."_

As Harry's tears stained the ground around him, Harry braced himself for the constant, his death. He closed his eyes, he wasn't going to give Tom Riddle the satisfaction of ending his life with his eyes on him. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had gotten the best of Harry.

_"Open your eyes, Harry," _Voldemort spoke softly, _"You don't want to die like a coward," _Seeing no reaction, Tom pressed on,_"You wouldn't want to die like your father and mudblood mother did."_

Harry's fist clenched as his anger flared up. He open his eyes to glare at Tom Riddle with an intense loathing. Harry wanted nothing but to have this man's very existence extinguished by his own hands. It had been a goal that costed his own, and his friend's lives on more than one occasion. The tears were still streaming down Harry's face as the two maintained eye contact.

_"Good. That's good, Harry. That pathetic look of hate suits your pathetic form," _Voldemort leered at the boy as he spoke,_" Hate me, Harry. Hate me for killing your parents, for ruining your life. Hate me as much as I hate you for ruining mine. Hate me for ending your life, just like you ended mine."_

Harry hated him, despised the wretch of a man, if you could even call him that, that stood before him. He wanted to lift his broken wand, to finish this like he wanted. He wanted to live peacefully with his friends. His eyes never left Voldemort's. His fists never unballed. His tears never stopped flowing.

_"Avada Kadavera!"_

* * *

Harry Potter was naked.

He was tired, cynical, and begging for all of it to end. He had died and experienced his friend's deaths enough that when he awoke, laying face down, he had the strongest inclination to shut his eyes and let himself fall into the permanent abyss called death. He was so familiar with this scene that he needn't question how he was alive, or how he could feel after his death.

The boy laid there for a long time. He was taking in the static silence that permeated the realm Harry had landed in. Harry was broken. He didn't want to move, but he knew that he needed to have another chance to save his friends. Pushing himself up, Harry looked around at the familiar scene. The mist that wasn't like any other mist he had ever seen surrounded him, but it did not cloud his surroundings. He wasn't amazed at what he saw.

The-Boy-Who-Lived's body was unscathed and not modest. He stood up, balancing himself on the pure white ground that supported him. Crying soon filled the air, but it wasn't Harry this time.

The thing that was bawling its eyes out was the thing that could save him. It was a baby. It was, as he learned when he pressed Albus Dumbledore, a baby of extraordinary power. Not only was this repulsive, leathery, thing the remaining remnant of Tom's soul, but it had the power to turn back time. Harry didn't hesitate to think of the robes this time. He merely wanted clothes. Not that far away, the robes appeared, ready for his taking.

He headed towards it, ready to return to his pitiful life, ready to sacrifice himself for his friends again in a hope that things will be different. He grabbed the robes and then turned to face the baby. He was repulsed by the poor thing. Regardless of how many times he had to look at it, it was always repulsive. Harry put on the robes while his eyes remained on the bawling thing. The mist shrouded the baby as its tiny hands were grasping the air. The green-eyed boy headed towards the vociferous thing, his hands ready to carry it.

"You can't help it."

Harry paused. His movements stopped as the figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared before him. The old man was smiling, his face lit up brightly.

"It's good to see you again, Harry. How much time has it been since we last talked?"

Harry's fists tightened, he glared at Albus in a similar way to Tom.

"Since you died, and left me to your plan of self-destruction and sacrifice under the guise of 'Love,'" Harry didn't enjoy his company. He had learned to hate the man after the many (failed) attempts at subverting his plans and saving him and his friends.

"Ah, yes," Albus smiled again, before sitting down at a bench that appeared behind him. He motioned for Harry to sit next to him, to which Harry refused, "And it seems that everything went as expected. Well, almost everything."

Harry tensed, his eyes looking at Dumbledore with suspicion.

"What do you mean?"

Albus looked Harry over, and then he open his mouth to respond, "Judging by the way you went for 'That'," Albus's eyes went to the still bawling baby, "It seems you plan on going back instead of going forward and facing Tom. Now tell me, Harry, why would you do such a thing?"

The look and tone Albus used on Harry was one that a disappointed parent would use to speak to their child. It was a look that Albus didn't deserve to have on him. He wasn't Harry's parent. He wasn't even a good man. He was, at least in Harry's estimation, a man who will do anything, even use the innocence of a child, to get what he wants. That is not a man who would qualify to be a parent, let alone anybody Harry actually cared about.

"I want a better ending. I want an ending where my friends and I can live without the grief you and Tom created."

The bitterness in Harry's voice caused the bespectacled, aging, wizard to flinch slightly. Albus wanted to convince Harry otherwise, but the boy who stood before him was not known for changing his mind.

"Fine, Harry," Dumbledore resigned himself,"Do what you wish, but know this," Albus pointed at the baby, "This will be your only chance. If you fail again, you will have to live with the consequences."

The disappointment was dripping from Albus's tone. It couldn't be helped. He knew Harry would have never ever followed his plan if it wasn't in the best interests of his friends.

"No need, Albus," Harry spoke, "If I fail again, I will never live to regret it."

And with that, Harry picked up the baby, and closed his eyes.

* * *

**A/N Note: Grrr! I know, it's not that good, but what can a man do when he is completely in love with a series, and has ideas gushing out like a waterfall, but he can't put his ideas to the keyboard properly. I will try to get a Beta for this story as soon as possible, so bear with me. Sorry for such a short beginning, but I felt like I needed to keep the prologue short and sweet. By all means, review if you think this is good, bad, or if you simply have questions. I love the feed back, and love communicating to the readers. Its one of the main reasons why I continue to waste away on this site instead of actually doing something productive with my life.**

**Pairings: I am going to have to mention this early, the pairing is undecided. There are so many, awesome, and appealing women in the Harry Potter universe that I am really leaning towards Harem. Now, Now, don't knock it till you try it. I believe that as long as it is written well, it could work, and I believe I can at least try to write it as well as I can.**

**Sorry for the spelling errors.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Ch.1 Strange Complications Means Suspicious Implications**

"Harry?"

A concerned voice cause the boy in question to open his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. Even a third time. His eyes focused on the concerned face of Hermione Granger. Where was he? His eyes glanced around him, trying to get his bearings. The room he and Hermione were in was quite large. He noticed that they weren't alone. In fact, it seemed that they were in quite a few people in here with them. It took only seconds to realize where they were, the Great Hall. Harry Potter distinctly noticed that there was absolute silence. All eyes were focused on him. He also noticed that it was incredibly dark as his eyes had to adjust to the semi-darkness that perpetuated around him.

"He's a cheat!"

"He's not even Seventeen yet!"

More voices rose up to object to, each sounding off in Ill-harmonious timing.

The-Boy-Who-Lived blinked in confusion. He was in the Great Hall, but why? He should have been transported back to the Dursley's awaiting his letter. Could he have been sent to a random point in time? Why? Anger slightly flared in him as the thought of Albus Dumbledore flashed in his mind. Did that old man do something?

The Green-eyed boy looked at Hermione with confused eyes. Hermione Granger looked at him with a decidedly worried expression. Her brow furrowed at his look and even more so when he decided to speak.

"What is happening?"

Harry looked around again, trying to discern exactly what is happening and when this was taking place. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione squirm. She looked uncomfortable as she wondered what she should say. Harry turned to her again as she started to explain.

"Well, uh. Your name was called from the Goblet, and suddenly your eyes closed... Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione's voice questioned as she looked at him. Everything had been normal until Harry's name had been called from the Goblet of Fire, announcing him to be a champion to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. She what turned to ask him how he had put his name in when she noticed his eyes closed and his figure slumped.

_'The Goblet? That means...'_

Harry's eyes answered the question as soon as they came in contact with the magnificent goblet. The Goblet of Fire, with its intricate design and power, was in the center of the Great Hall, and the man known as Albus Dumbledore was there, standing with a slightly singed scrap of paper in hand. Harry glanced around him once more, his eyes falling on Ron, who was looking at him in overt envy.

_'So this isn't the timeline where Ron died.'_

He stood up; shaking as his senses fully realized the cold temperature of the room. It wasn't just the room temperature, but the stares Harry received were predominately cold, incredulous looks. Harry Potter had been in this exact situation many times. He had faced the stares, the shouts of objection. He walked toward Albus Dumbledore, who had fixed him with a stare that resembled slight surprise. Harry wondered how he should interact with that despicable old man. Should he be rebellious? Should he be subservient? Should he act like he did the very first time he went through this?

"Through there, Harry," The Headmaster said, directing him towards a door. Harry nodded at him, hiding his inner hate for the man as he went to the through the door that he was directed to.

The room Harry had entered into a decent size. It was a trophy room. Dazzling, Metal (and some unknown material) structures were everywhere. Some were moving, while over simply were frozen in their gold, silver, and bronze glory. The other three champions stood before him, each preoccupied. Cedric Diggory was inspecting the trophies before him, a look of astonishment painted his face. The Durmstrang Champion was simply sitting down in one of the three chairs that were placed in the room with his eyes closed. The Beauxbatons champion was pacing back and forth with force. She was anxious, a look of slightly excitement on her face.

"Vat iz it? Do vey need us in zee Great 'All again?" The female champion, Fleur Delacour, Harry remembered, asked as she laid eyes on him. Harry almost chuckled nostalgically at how she was treating him. Harry had remembered Fleur, in some timelines, she had become his lover. In others, she had become a mere martyr for his cause. Fleur was excited and she wanted to know exactly why they sent this boy to them. Did they need them back for something?

The fourth champion just stood there, trying to remember how this situation had originally played out. While he had gone through this situation many times, some of them were so diverse and different that Harry was having a hard time recalling the original incident.

His silence troubled the woman, and she made this known. With a concerned look at him and a nervous gulp she began to speak.

"Vhat is it? 'Az there been a 'mistake?"

Before Harry could gather his wits enough to respond, sounds of rushed footsteps and a door opening interrupted his thoughts.

"There has to be some kind of mistake!" A voice sounded off as the group of headmasters, along with Moody (Crouch Jr.) and Crouch Sr. entered into the room.

"It should have been possible for him to even enter; I thought you had put an age line, Albus!" The same voice continued. Igor Karkaroff continued to voice his complaints. He had done everything it possible to make sure that his champion, Viktor Krum, was the in the best position to win. He will not have some bespectacled kid ruin Durmstrang's chances for eternal glory.

"I did, but it seems that it was not enough." Albus was quite, his eyes locked onto the youngest champion and he made his way to him.

"Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet?" Albus asked softly to the boy.

"Well of course he did!" Igor remarked, " Why wouldn't he!?"

"Trouble," Moody/Crouch Jr. began, "has a way of finding Mr. Potter, whether he wants it or not. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody had hexed that bloody goblet to spit his name out."

"Oh, here we go! Listen, Mad-eye, we don't need your paranoid theories creat-" Igor was cut off by a growl from Moody

"Oh, I am _sorry_ that I am thinking your Death Eater buddies might have something to do with it!

"ENOUGH!" Albus shouted, promptly silencing the two feuding wizards. "Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet?"

The neglected champion looked at his headmaster in the face. Harry's gears were turning as he thought of what he could do. Should he deny it? Should he say that he did? Harry had remembered the one time where he had said "Yes." He had been charged with a crime and sent to Azkaban where he was until he was killed by Voldemort. Harry shivered at the thought of the place.

"No, Sir. I swear I didn't."

"He's lying!" Madame Maxime responded before Albus raised his hand to silence her.

"Are you telling the truth, Harry?"

"Yes, Sir. I am."

All eyes were still on Harry, even as he finished speaking. His hands were balled up into fists as he began to think about what had happened. He had mysteriously been transported back to his fourth year, right before the Triwizard Tournament. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it should be. He should be at the Dursley's, getting picked on by Dudley. Something had gone wrong, and it made Harry feel suspicious. Suspicious at the one man who could have done this to him, Albus Dumbledore. Ever since he had found out exactly what that deceiving Headmaster was up to, Harry had hated him. He was the sole reason why he and his friends had to fight, die and suffer. Dying for Dumbledore's plan was bullshit and Harry wanted nothing of it, but he knew what happens if you directly opposed Dumbledore. On different occasions, on different timelines, Harry had opposed him, and even killed the man himself, only to be played the fool and cut down by his followers or worse, by his own friends. The old man must have had a hand in sabotaging Harry's attempt to save him and his friends for the last time.

Harry's fists tightened. He really hated him. He hated Dumbledore so much and it angered Harry that he had to deal with him every time he went back. His thoughts must have occupied him for some time because his thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice calling his name.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked, his thoughts evaporating as Albus pierced his with a stare. The look of concern the Headmaster was wearing made Harry's Anger flare up slightly. That man doesn't deserve to wear that look.

"Sorry, Sir."

"It grieves me to say, Harry that you will have to compete."

Harry nodded, showing that he understood what Albus was saying. He knew that this would have to happen if he any chance to save his friends from the sorrowful fate that awaited them.

* * *

Harry was laying in his four poster bed, thinking to himself. He thought and thought, and the more he thought, the angrier he got. Even though he was back, and he was beyond happy to see Hermione and his friends alive again, he had no idea how he could save them. It frustrated him to no end. It was bullshit. No. It was beyond bullshit. He turned onto his left and tried to sleep.

"Harry, how'd you do it?"

Ron's voice was quite, and it surprised Harry that he was awake. His mouth became a thin line as his mind flashed through the many times he had this very same discussion.

"Ron, I didn't do anything. I swear I have no idea how my name got into the Goblet."

"...Yeah, Ok."

Harry grimaced; he knew what was coming next.

"I just thought, you know, that you would tell your best mate how you did it. Maybe we could have done it together..."

Harry turned to look towards Ron. He pierced the red-head with a glare that made Ron squirm. Harry didn't bother to respond. He just went to sleep.

* * *

**A/N Note: Another short chapter. This is short due to the fact that I needed a chapter that showed where Harry ended up, while not giving to much away. Oh, and by the way. This isn't going to be one of those "We have to stick as close to the timeline as possible so that I can know the future" fics. This Harry is not afraid to change the timeline in order to attempt to save his friends or striving towards that goal. He isn't going to act like he was in the original. The only reason he is not loading on Albus is because he didn't want to cause unnecessary problems and he needs to think things over before he decides to change. Also I hope you guys like the allusions I made to some of Harry's other timelines that he lived through. **

**Also, while there might not be Ron bashing per se, Ron is going to be a somewhat distant character, as I view him as a very poor friend, due to the events that have happened in canon, and thus is not worthy of Hermione. Speaking of Hermione. She is a confirmed partner for Harry, as is Luna and Fleur. **

**I hope you like it, even though it is short. Please follow, favorite, and review.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Legal disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Ch.2 Sirius Black and the Weighing of the Wands**

_"Hermione, no...Please!"_

_"I'm sorry, Harry, but Dumbledore sa-"_

_"Dumbledore's a liar and a deceiver, Hermione. You can't tru-"_

_"Honestly, Harry, you expect me to believe that about Dumbledore of all people?!"_

_The Boy-Who-Lived squirmed under the glare that his longtime girlfriend, Hermione Jean Granger, had given him. Her arms were crossed under her breasts and her voice was of a person who was not pleased at all._

_"Look, he plans on me sacrificing myself for my friends, for you... He plans on me dying, Hermione!" _

_Harry's voice was begging. He was pleading with her. He wanted her to understand, he wanted her to know about the monster that was Albus Dumbledore._

_"Dumbledore is dead, Harry! Snape killed him! He isn't forcing you to do anything! He is dead, and you can't even honor his memory."_

_Harry snorted at this. What memory? The memory of a man that caused him so much pain? So much sadness? Did a man that caused so many tears to flow down the raven-haired boy's face deserve honor? Hermione looked at Harry incredulously. Her nostrils flared up and her eyes shot daggers at her boyfriend._

_"I can't believe you... How could you? Dumbledore wants us to hunt down these... These Horcruxes and you won't do it!" _

_Her hands covered her face. She couldn't bear to look at the boy she had fallen in love with. He was being difficult. _

_"I'm sorry, but I can't..."_

_The seventeen year old boy looked at the girl he loved with a soft gaze. He wondered how many times he had the same discussion with her. It must be in the hundreds by now. It was even more painful because he had done this many times, with the many women he loved. He had done this with Ginny before he realized she had simply been in love with him because he saved her the second year. He had done this with Luna and Fleur. Hell, he even remembered doing this with Pansy._

_He turned green at the thought that he actually proposed to her. _

_"Harry..." Hermione began, "I know that you have your misgivings about him, but if you want us to live and be happy, you will have to do this... For me."_

_Her form was shaking and her voice indicated she was on the verge of crying. This broke Harry's heart. It pained him to know that he was the cause of her sadness. Hermione always was the one person he could depend upon, and he wanted her to be able to depend upon him. His resolve to contest her (and Albus Dumbledore) shattered as he closed the distance into an embrace._

_"Alright, Hermione... I'll do it. I'll do it for you."_

_Suddenly, the scene around Harry changed. He was no longer comforting his love. Destruction was everywhere. Death wasn't far away from Harry as he observed body's on the ground. Sounds of panic and sadness filled the air around Harry. His eyes took in the scene that was before him. It was strange; no one had noticed him though. He looked around some more, and his eyes fell upon his worst nightmare._

_Hermione was dead. Her eyes blank as they stared up at the sky above. She had died in the battle that was to protect him from Tom Riddle._

_"NO!"_

_0o0o0o0_

The nightmare that had caused Harry to wake up in a quivering mess was a recurring one. Of course, nightmares like this were the only things he could dream about. It was a Sunday, Harry remembered as he got up from his four-poster bed and spread the curtains. Ron was not there, he noticed. The Boy-Who-Lived snorted at the how typical the Weasley boy was.

Getting dressed, Harry climbed down the spiral staircase into the common room. Clapping ensued as the Gryiffindors who had finished their breakfast congratulated him for becoming a champion. For a second, an uneasy feeling spread over him, and he just stood there, like a deer in the headlights. He was nervous. This was his last chance to save his friends. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He was getting worried that he might fail again. That he might _die_ again. The clapping stopped as confused faces appeared on those who were observing Harry.

It seemed like ages, but Harry started to move towards the portrait hole. He pushed it open, climbed out of it, and nearly bumped into Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stick of toast that was wrapped in a napkin. "I brought you this... Want to go for a walk?"

Harry smiled gratefully before nodding. A walk with Hermione would clear his misgivings. The pair made their way down to the entrance hall. Harry was the subject of many of the passing students' stares, glares and gossip. Rumors swirled are him and whispers followed the two as they passed the Great Hall and headed out to the Hogwarts's lawn. Hermione lead Harry towards the lake. The bespectacled boy glanced at the intimidating ship that was moored there.

The walk was silent, and Harry knew he should say _something_. He knew that if he didn't, things might take a nasty turn. Images of grief, pain and loss flashed through Harry's mind as he was brought back to some of his previous timelines. His shoulders slumped as he thought about how many times he had lost _that_ Hermione. The one he had loved. The one he wanted to share the rest of his life with. The one that begged and pleaded to Voldemort to spare Harry before she was cut down by the killing curse. That Hermione brought unshed tears to the not quite so fourteen year old boy.

He never got to propose to her.

"Harry?"

He snapped out of his depressing musings as Hermione looked back at him. She had her classic "Are you OK?" look.

The object of her gaze blinked as if just realized she was there. Hermione saw a slight smile form as Harry looked at her again and wiped the water coming from his eyes. She bit her lip in concern. After the Goblet incident, Harry had been, in her opinion, acting strangely. It baffled her.

"Sorry, Hermione. It's just... Well, it's chilly and I was thinking about Ron." Harry lied. He had to. Harry couldn't possibly tell her the truth. He remembered the one and only time he did so, and she went to Dumbledore with the information. Granted, she didn't know that Dumbledore was the worst person she could have went to with the information.

Hermione frowned. She felt as if there was something else that was bothering him. Something that he didn't want her, one of his best friends, to know. This bothered her slightly and she was about to make it known, but she was cut off when Harry spoke again.

"Hermione, I have no idea who put my name in the goblet, but I swear it wasn't me."

Harry knew that Hermione wasn't buying his lie, or at least, not outright. He needed to push her away from the topic, lest he deviate highly from the predicted timeline. While he was not afraid to change and alter it, he didn't want to yet. He needed to think about when and how he should do so. If there was one thing Harry Potter learned in the many times he relived his life, is that one shouldn't alter too much without thinking about the consequences.

"Harry, I know you couldn't have put your name in that Goblet." Hermione looked somewhat offended that Harry would imply she didn't believe him. "Dumbledore's magic is powerful, and I doubt any student could have tricked it! No offense," She quickly added after seeing Harry get slightly annoyed.

"None taken."

The thought of Albus Dumbledore had gotten Harry slightly agitated. It also got him wondering about how he mysteriously ended up in his fourth year. Was it simply because of luck? Was it because of Albus? Probably. But how? How could Albus have tampered with it? And for what reason? Well, the reason was obvious to Harry. He wanted Harry to fail and give into his plans... But why his fourth year? Was that random? Or could it be planned? Did Albus send him here because this year wasn't as important as any of the other ones? Or was it because this year was important that he sent him here? Frustration began to rear its ugly head as Harry's mind was filled with these types of questions.

"The question is," Hermione continued on in a slightly hushed tone, "Who _did_ put your name in? Because I think Moody is right, Harry... I find it hard to believe that any student could have done it... they'd never fool the goblet, or get over Dumbledore's age line."

In Harry's mind, that question was already answered. Barty Crouch Jr. was the culprit behind it. It was already solved and not an issue. Harry knew that if he wanted to save his friends and himself, he would need to make sure that he was the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. This means, he needed to keep the fact that he knows about Crouch a secret... for now. Harry had bigger problems to face.

"Ron seems to think that I actually put my name in." Harry said, slightly bitter at his other "best mate". In the many times Harry had gone through his life, Ron, he found out, was a wildcard. In some timelines, he was a good friend who, with the correct form of persuasion, could be convinced to turn against Dumbledore and fight with Harry. In others, Ron would be the prime example for Dumbledore's willingness to use anybody's desires, fears, and jealousy to further his goal. Hell, Ron had abandoned him too many times for Harry to ever consider him a friend. As many times as Harry went through his life, he was still resented the red-head for leaving him and Hermione in the woods.

"He's _jealous_, Harry!"

"Yeah, I know. That still doesn't give him a right to be a prat about it!" Harry hissed back at her. It wasn't so much Ron _was _being a prat, but that he _will be_ a prat about it, in Harry's mind.

"Honestly, Harry." Hermione looked at Harry before she continued to defend the Weasley boy. "He has siblings to compete with. A lot of them, mind you. And he is _best friends _with you, the Boy-Who-Lived! And I know you don't ask for the attention you get, but it's _always _you. He is always on the side and you are always in the center."

"Great," Harry said bitterly, "Really great. Well, you can tell him from me tha-"

"I'm not telling him anything." Hermione cut Harry off.

Harry sighed, his hand running through his hair. So far, he was doing well. He was, more or less, maintaining the correct flow of the timeline. All he needed to do was keep this up. His mind thought about what exactly he had said. It was hard considering that he had many differing versions of this conversation, some purposefully changed, and others accidentally altered. He was on thin ice, and it didn't help that if he didn't respond in time it could affect the timeline drastically.

"Maybe he'll believe me once I have gotten my neck broken or, you know, di-"

"That's not funny." Hermione's voice was quite. "Not funny at all.

Hermione was anxious. Or, at least, that's what it seemed to Harry Potter. Hermione was also deep in thought. It caused Harry to panic slightly because he wasn't sure if he had chosen the right words, or even direction to keep it in line with his original run. It took a prolonged moment of silence before the Bushy-haired witch spoke again.

"Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, right? As soon as we get back to the Castle?"

Now, Harry was confused. He had absolutely no clue what he should do. He thought about it, and thought some more. Nope. He was absolutely stumped. Obviously it was important, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember exactly what _was so important._

"Not a clue, sorry."

Harry tensed; he could have possibly just ruined it. God, how idiotic of him to forget something so important! Harry Potter wanted to curse, but his hands balled into fists as he looked at Hermione.

"Honestly, Harry! _Write to Sirius._ How could you forget? He even told you to keep him posted on whatever happens in Hogwarts... You know, it's almost like he expected something like this to happen I woul..."

Harry wasn't listening to her. Sirius was alive. That's right, this was fourth year. Of course Sirius was alive! Harry smiled. His godfather, Sirius Black, was alive and breathing. That was good. That was better than good, it was fantastic. How could he have forgotten about Sirius? How could it have slipped his mind? Has Harry changed so much that he had forgotten about the only person he considered true family?

"...I even brought some parchment and a quill with me." Hermione continued, not realizing that Harry had only just now started to pay attention to her again.

"Alright, I'll write to Sirius." Harry said, smiling at the thought of conversing with his godfather. Harry tossed the last bit of the toast Hermione gave him into the lake, and the pair watched it float in the lake for a bit. Hermione then turned and headed towards the castle with Harry in tow.

It didn't take long for the pair to make it to the Owlery. Hermione handed Harry a piece of parchment, an ink bottle, and a quill so he could begin his correspondence with his godfather. Harry didn't immediately begin working on the letter. His eyes scanned his surroundings before settling on the beautiful snowy owl that was his. He had remembered that owl, and he remembered... Harry's right hand tightened around the ink bottle. He remembered Hedwig's death. He remembered it multiple times. He remembered the killing curse that claimed her life; he also remembered the great fire that enveloped the Dursley home while she was in side. Harry had forgotten her. How stupid of him.

Deciding not to let the morbid thoughts consume him, Harry sat down against a wall, dipped the quill in ink, and began to write his letter.

_Dear Sirius,_

_ You asked me to keep you updated on the situation here at Hogwarts, so here goes - The Triwizard Tournament is happening this year, and my name got picked as the fourth champion._

Harry paused, his quill resting on the parchment. Should he tell his godfather the truth? Could he really trust Sirius with the truth? Would he go to Albus Dumbledore? Harry didn't know. He had never actually told Sirius. This would be an unknown to him... But, Harry wasn't afraid of the unknown, the only thing he knew was that his past attempts failed.

_picked as the fourth champion. Sirius, I know who did it. His name is Barty Crouch Jr. and he is currently posing as Mad-eye Moody at Hogwarts. I would tell you more, but this is as far as I can go until I am sure that I can trust you. Do not tell anyone, especially not Dumbledore, about Crouch. I need to meet with you so that I can fully explain this to you, but I need to tell you about what is really going on here. Delivering the full story by owl is not an option. Please reply as soon as possible._

_-Harry._

"Finished," Harry said to Hermione as he rolled up the parchment. Hedwig flew down onto his shoulder, leg outstretched to take the letter. Harry tied the letter to her leg, and then sadly stroked her feathers. As soon as the letting was done, the magnificent bird took off and soared towards her goal.

0o0o0o0

The Boy-Who-Lived awoke with a start. It was another nightmare. Harry groaned as his eyes adjusted to the light in his dorm. His eyes focused in on the familiar scene, and he got up to get dressed.

Today, stares, glares and resentment were everyone. Harry could not escape the obvious fact that the other houses besides Gryffindor were not in the least bit pleased that he was the fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament. The Hufflepuff students were the worst. Harry could understand why they would be. Out of all the houses, Hufflepuff is the only one where glory, especially eternal glory, is scarce. It must have been a really pleasant shock that Cedric Diggory, their housemate, got chosen to be the Hogwarts champion. It also must have been, Harry astutely realized, a heart-wrenching betrayal on the part of Harry Potter to steal it away. Harry would have avoided them if he could, but he had classes, Herbology in particular, with the Hufflepuffs.

In fact, it was pretty damn obvious in Herbology. Harry's Hufflepuff friends, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, were giving him the arctic shoulder. Ron was doing the same thing. Honestly, it was damn frustrating to Harry. The lot needed to grow up. Hermione was sitting in between her two warring friends as they repotted Bouncing Bulbs.

"Shit!"

Harry cursed under his breath as one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. This caused unpleasant laughter coming from the Hufflepuffs.

Needless to say, Harry was more than glad when Herbology was over with. Even though he had to have gone through this hundreds of times, it still frustrated Harry that people are always quick to turn on him and think nothing of it. He was fuming on the inside, and he couldn't wait till this whole Triwizard Tournament was over. The only reason he was willing to put up with it was because he needed to make sure everything still went on as normal. He couldn't risk changing things yet, not before he was sure of Sirius's loyalty.

"Look, boys, it's the champion," Malfoy scoffed at Harry, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking both his sides, as soon as Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived at Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures. "Got your autograph books ready? You better get his signature now, because he isn't even going to last ten minutes in the first task!"

The Slytherin trio laughed at Malfoy's remarks while Harry just ignored them. As much as he would like to do anything, he remembered that he needed to keep his cool. The lives of his friends depend on it.

It wasn't long after that when Hagrid arrived. His presence shut up the blond Slytherin and his hysterical cronies. The sheer size of the half-giant would be more than enough to shut up the biggest bodybuilder, much less a snob who, on the inside, is nothing but a daddy's boy.

Much to the amazement, and then later dismay of the students, Hagird was balancing a teetering tower of crates. Each crate contained a huge Blast-Ended Skrewt, and once all of them were opened, Hagrid explained that in order to pacify the gruesome looking creatures, they had to take them for a walk.

"Take them for a walk?!" Malfoy exclaimed in disgust, peering into one of the boxes. "Where are we supposed to even leash it?"

"Well, roun' the middle," Hagrid replied, giving the students a demonstration. "Er - yeh might tear put on yer dragon-hide gloves. Harry - you come here an' help me with this big one..."

Harry smiled at Hagrid. He knew that the half-giant only wanted to separate him from the group just so that he could talk with him privately. Hagrid waited, like any person who wanted a private conversation would, until the rest of the students set off with their skrewts.

"No idea who put it in fer ya, Harry?"

At first, Harry was confused; this was definitely not how the discussion started originally. He almost frowned, but he knew better than to do that. Still... Maybe the minute changes were because of the minute edits he must have made while speaking to Hermione and other earlier.

"So, you believe I didn't do it?"

"'Course I do. Yeh say it wasn' you an' I believe ya."

An awkward silence was between the two as Harry tried to remember what was supposed to be said next. Before Harry could reply, Hagrid looked out to the field, smiling as he observed his students walking their skrewts.

"School Champion... I don't know, Harry... Everythin' happens ter you, doesn' it?"

Harry nodded. Indeed, everything seemed to happen to him. He never realized how true that statement was till now.

0o0o0o0

Knock! Knock!

Harry's thinking was interrupted when Colin Creevey busted in on Harry's double potions lesson. Colin scanned the classroom for a couple of seconds, stopping when his eyes met Harry's. Beaming at the bespectacled teen, Colin gave him a thumb up and walked to Snape's desk.

"Yes?" Snape asked, giving Colin a once over.

"Please, Sir, I am supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

"Potter still has another hour of potions class. You can get him when he is finished."

"B-but Sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," Colin replied nervously, his smile long gone. "He told me that they need all the champions. I think they are going to take photographs..."

Harry smiled. He remembered this. He actually remembered how he felt when this first occurred. He remembered how embarrassed he was. He also remembered one version of this day where it was Cho Chang that had gotten him. It was strange, though, he couldn't recall exactly why they picked Cho that time.

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped at the boy before turning to Harry. "Potter, get out of my sight. Now."

Harry Potter sighed as a dozen POTTER STINKS buttons shone brightly before him. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, he exited the room. As soon as Harry and Colin left the dungeon, Colin turned to Harry with an excited look, and opened his mouth.

"Yeah, I know, _amazing_." Harry cut off the boy, and headed to the small classroom where the rest of the champions were at.

The first thing Harry noticed was Viktor Krum was being his usual self. He was just standing in the corner, not even bothering to be social. However, Cedric and Fleur were conversing with each other. Actually, it seemed like they were flirting.

"Ah, here he is! The fourth champion! Nothing to worry about, Harry. It's just the wand weighing ceremony. The expert that will be checking the wands is upstairs with Dumbledore. After that, there is going to be a photo shoot!" Ludo smiled at Harry brightly before introducing the witch that was in magenta robes. "This, Harry, is Rita Skeeter. She is doing an article on the tournament for the _Daily Prophet._"

Rita smiled at Harry brightly, revealing pearl white teeth. Rita Skeeter was clutching a crocodile scaled handbag and she had a very... Well, extravagantly curly hair.

"I was wondering if I could have a word with Harry before we start. You know, since he is the youngest champion, people will, no doubt, be the most interested in him."

Ludo looked at Harry expectantly, but Harry simply shook his head. He was not going to grant her any interview whatsoever. He was not going to subject himself to that kind of embarrassment again.

Needless to say, Rita Skeeter looked crestfallen.

It wasn't becoming of a person to enjoy another's misery, but Harry smiled at the fact that Rita had been denied what she was _really _after. He didn't enjoy her slandering him countless times in the _Daily Prophet_, and this was only the sweetest of revenge, even if she didn't truly deserve it... Yet.

Soon after, Dumbledore arrived, and Ollivander, the wand expert was trailing behind him. Harry smiled fondly as he remembered his first time at Olivander's. In fact, it was one of the few events that remained constant during his timelines. He always went to the Olivander's. He even always got the same wand. Of course, like Olivander says, it's the want that chooses the wizard. But, Harry knew he wouldn't have wanted any other wand.

"May I introduce to you Mister Olivander?" Albus Dumbledore stepped aside to let the old man get to his job.

Fleur was the first to get her wand tested. Harry didn't find it important to listen to her wand specs. It didn't matter to him. He had been here before, and had witness this countless times. There was this one time, though, that Angelina Johnson was once picked to be the Hogwarts champion because Cedric had died at the Quiditch World Cup. Now that was a good game, Harry remembered fondly.

"Mister Potter."

Harry stood up at the prompting of his name. He approached the mystical old man and handed him his wand.

"Ah, yes... How well I remember, Mister Potter. It seemed like only yesterday when you came into my shop..."

Harry smiled and nodded at the old man.

Olivander took longer than normal to inspect Harry's wand. His hands inspecting every grove and contour of the instrument. Eventually, he had made wine shoot out of the tip and happily exclaimed that it was in perfect condition.

"Alright!" Ludo Bagman exclaimed excitedly. "Photos! Everybody gather round!"

0o0o0o0

When Harry walked into his dormitory, he saw Hedwig waiting for him. A letter attached on her left leg. With excited hands, Harry quickly untied it and began to read:

_ Dear Harry,_

_ I had thought I told you not to send Hedwig. She is too noticeable and I don't want you to get in trouble. The news you sent me is troubling, and the fact that you believe that this new is something Dumbledore shouldn't be aware of is even more so. However, I will do as you requested and keep silent until we can talk face to face. _

_ Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room on November 22? I can contact you then and we can talk about what you know and how you know it._

_Padfoot._

* * *

**A/N Note: I decided that I would post this up because, well. I wanted you guys to read more! As you can see, this particular chapter was (so far) the longest one. It was around four thousand something words. I also used this chapter to explain why some of the situations aren't going exactly as J.K Rowling wrote them. Also, I introduced the first big deviant from canon, and that is the inclusion of Sirius black on the secret. Will this be a good thing for Harry, or will it come and bite him on the ass? Only time will tell. I also hope you liked how I made further allusions to other timelines and some of Harry's emotions and faults. **

**I tried to make it as believable and as, well Harry Potter as I can without making it feel too non-original. If it does feel too copied, please bare with it until I can safely maneuver around some of the red tape. I also hope you are satisfied with my reason as to why Harry doesn't want to "out" Moody/ Crouch Jr. Oh, and as I have mentioned before. All this Harry Potter cares about is his friends. He isn't planning on saving anybody else but his friends, and he will use any means to accomplish his goals.**

**Please review, and if you have any questions please put them in the reviews, unless they are spoilers. Spoiler questions (If you really wanna know xD) are reserved for the PMs. **

**-Shintaro Kozu**


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